Today we returned to the grade school for a kickball rematch. This time the teams started out as me and the kids versus Krista and Shasta. All was going well at first. I kicked one waaaaay out into the outfield and we scored three runs. But then the outs started piling up. And then it was Krista and Shasta's turn to kick. Krista said, "Let's make Matt run!" and they started kicking the ball ridiculously far. Z soldiered on, but A defected to the Ladies Team.
Fortunately for me, the Ladies Team decided to head home early to make dinner for us (barbecued salmon and mashed potatoes and I'm not sure what other tasty surprises they may be serving up for us).
On the way home we saw our neighbors who had been in the street altercation in September, which had ended with me on the sidewalk while a police officer held an assault rifle pointed in my direction. As we stood there, the neighbors they had been fighting with drove by and she waved to them. I asked if they had become friends and she said, "This is the first time I've seen them since the fight. I'm hoping if I act nice there won't be trouble." I shrugged. "Also, they were so drunk I'm not sure they remember what happened."
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